


The Moment

by ilovemanicures



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Don't Like Don't Read, Guy on Guy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9886238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemanicures/pseuds/ilovemanicures
Summary: In which Dick is grieving, Wally feels useless, and neither of them know what the proper protocol is for moments like these.Originally titled Useless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've re written this one shot SOOOO many times. I had to re post it because initially it was supposed to be multi chapter and the layout got all messed up. I'm not happy with how it turned out but I'm tired of looking at it so... yeah. Enjoy? Lol

You aren't sure what propels you to go through with it. All you can remember is staring out the window of your small apartment, watching the snow as it fell down like little frozen teardrops covering the streets.

 

You heard the news on in the background. Heard the meteorologist explain how this was going to turn out to be the worst snow storm to hit New York in more than a decade.

 

You knew he'd still be out there, of course. And you pictured him, clear as day, perched on top of some abandoned rooftop. You imagined how exhausted he must be. Knew that no matter how sleep deprived he may be, he would never let himself rest. Worried that if it were someone else out there instead of himself, something could happen to them like it did to—

 

You felt guilty, of course. It'd been a week since he kicked you out. Yelled at you, and told you he didn't want you holding him back. Screamed at you, claiming you wouldn't get it because you weren't _in_ the hero business anymore... amongst other things.

 

You realized, hours later, that he only said those things to push you away. That he didn't actually mean any of it. That when he said leave him alone he was actually begging you to stay.

 

But you were upset and emotional, and it was too late by the time you actually got your head out of your ass to read between those lines.

 

And he still wouldn't answer your calls— from what you've heard, he wasn't answering anyone's calls.

 

He even left the mansion. Claimed that _he needed some space._ Or at least that's what Alfred had told you when you asked.

 

And of course, Bruce was no help (shocker). The old bat just kept telling you that _he'll come back when he's ready._

 

Which you knew actually translated to: _I don't handle emotional problems very well, so let it work itself out._

 

You feared that you may have lost him for good. Because Dick, despite not being a blood son, was just as stubborn as his adoptive father figure. And if he said he didn't want to come back, then that meant...

 

Yet that still didn't explain your current predicament. Why or how your feet started moving without your consent.

 

Your mind was going hundreds of miles a minute— two hundred and forty seven, if you wanted to be precise— and you just couldn't get a grip on. Well. _Anything_.

 

You began passing by building after building. The town you grew up in quickly turning into a small city known as Blüdhaven.

 

Your thoughts are running wild. No pun intended (for once) and you seriously can't think of anything other than blue eyes and raven colored hair. You mentally chant his name like a mantra, as if that'll be enough to find him.

 

And apparently it is.

 

**Wow.**

 

He looks beautiful up there.

 

His shadow moves passed you, like a dark angel on a mission. You can't see his face from here, but you know that freedom is shining in those cerulean orbs.

 

He flips and twists in such a mesmerizing way that it makes it incredibly easy to ignore how cold you are. You don't even blink the snowflakes out of your green eyes. Because it isn't everyday you get to see a _Flying_ _Grayson_ preform.

 

Cause that's all he's doing, really. Preforming. You know there isn't any danger, you can sense the immense quiet that floods the usually busy streets.

 

Apparently not even the scum are dumb enough to wreak havoc in the middle of a snow storm. Who would have thought?

 

He finally lands and you waste no time running after him. He turns, noticing your presence, (duh. Of course he would) but isn't fast enough to dodge out of the way. He struggles. Violently. You know he hates being carried and so you don't even try to hide your smile.

 

He notices and just huffs in defeat, realizing he could seriously hurt himself since you've started running again.

 

You make sure his head is tucked into your chest, and you hold him securely. It's much easier now that he's given in.

 

You can't see his face but it's easy to imagine his pout and you smile that much wider.

 

You didn't realize you were in your apartment until he pushes himself away and glares at you, and all you can do is stand there. The only thing that comes to mind is to wave, and you realize that you probably look like an absolute idiot when you start doing just that.

 

He opens his mouth, but the cold you ignored earlier comes back with a vengeance and you shudder. His mouth shuts and now he's just crossing his arms. Maybe feeling a little guilty knowing you were only out there to find him.

 

Despite his _what the_ _fuck_ stance, he looks very tired. Just like you imagined he would.

 

You know he'll be more upset with you after this, but that doesn't seem to matter because you do it anyway.

 

Using your super speed, you remove all of his clothing along with your own. You are both stripped down to boxers and are now hidden under your worn out comforter—You left the heat on, and with your added body heat, there's no reason to put on sweats or T-shirts— before he can even attempt to protest.

 

It's silent for a brief moment. You understand this as him catching his breath after all of the _swoosh_ _swoosh_  (his description, not yours) so you give him time to catch up.

 

You can't see much due to the covers blocking nearly all the light that's shining through that little window he's used to crawl in and scare you from time to time, but you know you both must look ridiculous.

 

Red and black hair tousled from the run, cheeks flushed from the cold air and chests rising and falling with heavy breathing.

 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity to a speedster, he mutters a quiet, "Hey..."

 

Man, when did you get so sleepy? You push that thought aside and respond, "Hey yourself."

 

His eyelids begin to droop, as do your own. Your foreheads are touching.

 

"Do I even want to know why you kidnapped me?"

 

He's mumbling at this point. Slurring his words, which makes you mentally breath a sigh of relief. At least he isn't upset with you anymore.

 

You smile as he snuggles closer to you. Your chin now resting above his head, your arm lightly draped over his waste.

 

"Heh. Heard on the news that It's too cold outside for Angels to fly."

 

You can't see his face anymore now that he's buried in your chest, but you know him well enough that you can just _feel_ him rolling his eyes and smiling.

 

You lazily begin to draw patterns on the bare skin of his exposed hip and lower back.

 

He simply hums in content.

 

You feel yourself slowly slipping into that peaceful state of oblivion and suddenly cannot remember what the two of you were arguing about, or why you let it stop you from holding your best friend while his world fell apart.

 

But none of that matters right now. All that matters is, "Mmm. Warm."

 

* * *

 

You aren't sure how much time has passed, but you slowly feel yourself slipping back into consciousness. Your eyes crack open, and you take in the other presence in the room as you stretch out sore muscles.

 

He doesn't seem to acknowledge that you're awake. If this were anyone else you would have assumed he hadn't even noticed yet.

 

He just sits there, frozen. Face buried in his knees, arms securely wrapped around, as if he's just trying to hold himself together.

 

You reach over and touch his shoulder, he flinches and that's when you realize how badly he's hurting. Anyone who's been trained by _The Batman_ does not flinch.

 

You sit up, pulling him closer to you. Try to get him to look at you, but instead he buries his head in your chest, refusing to look up.

 

He's been crying. You know this because he wouldn't be hiding otherwise. It's odd because he's been crying for God only knows how long and still has yet to compose himself.

 

This isn't like Dick. This isn't like him at all. Dick is a rock. Totally solid, never letting anything keep him down.

 

But then again, this time around, things are different. He's only nineteen and has just experienced the very tragic loss of his sixteen year-old step-brother.

 

He's been hurting and you haven't been there to help. You let him push you away when you should have known better.

 

Man. Artemis is right, you are an idiot.

 

You both sit like that for a while. You know better than to force him to talk, so you just sit there gently rocking back and forth, rubbing his arm and back in a comforting gesture, anything you can think of to help calm him down.

 

At one point you think he's fallen back asleep. Until you feel a shudder and realize he's just been holding his breath so you wouldn't hear him sob.

 

"Babe. Please. Don't do this to yourself..." You plead, though you know it's no use.

 

Dick blamed himself for letting Jason take over as Robin in the first place. Claimed it should have been him. Not Jason.

 

It broke your heart knowing that you couldn't do anything to lift this burden off of him. No matter how many times you try to convince the young vigilante, he refuses to shake the guilt from off of his shoulders.

 

You knew he'd never be the same after this. Hated yourself for being so useless when the most important person in your life was falling apart.

 

Geez. Where's that superpower when you need it.

 

Dick takes a shuddering breath. Slowly lifts his head so that he can look his best friend and partner in the eye.

 

"I'm sorry, Wally." You both know he's not just apologizing for tonight. You hate that he even feels like he has to apologize. You don't really know what to say so you just pull him closer in return.

 

He revels in your warmth. You feel him snuggle that much closer to you, and finally feel him relax a bit.

 

"Dick?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"I know it's not saying much, but everything will be alright. Eventually. It may not seem like it right now, but you can take all the time in the world to get yourself together. Until then, I've got you. I Promise."

 

He lifts his head, looking straight into your eyes. His face is stained with tear tracks, and his own eyes are red and puffy, but to you he looks beautiful. A little broken, maybe. But still beautiful.

 

He raises his right hand and cups your cheek. He leans in and smiles before he touches his lips to yours, and it feels like fireworks. It's felt like that since you were both just kids, hiding in closets hoping Bruce or Alfred wouldn't catch you.

 

You smile into the kiss, thinking back on what all you've both been through together. How you waited and waited until he finally turned eighteen, and how difficult he made it for you every step of the way.

 

You don't know if it's been seconds or minutes since he'd started this little make out session, but you feel his lips become more fervent and instinctively respond to it with vigor.

 

He makes a satisfied groan and it makes you moan, deep and wanting. Your hands are in his hair, pulling, trying to bring him closer. He's biting your lips now, sucking hard and you can feel them swelling— God, it's been _way_ too long since you've been intimate with one another.

 

He's straddling your waste now, and your hands are moving up and down his back, groping his ass and squeezing his hips.

 

You aren't sure who started grinding first, but at that moment, with the two of you pressed up against each other (when did you guys take off your boxers? Damn that friction feels great.) you want nothing more than to experience the wonderful heat that is Dick Grayson. You need to have him under you, screaming for release. You need to be inside of him.

 

**Now.**

 

You know he's thinking the same thing because the moment you both break off from that heated battle of tongues, that wicked smirk is on those gorgeous bruised lips of his.

 

Your bright green eyes admire him, he notices your deep gaze and flushes a bit. Despite being used to always having the spotlight on him, he's still self conscious when it comes to you. Your knees get a little week at the thought and suddenly you can't get this gorgeous man on his back fast enough.

 

"I love you."

 

"Love you too."

 

And you're back to biting and licking and sucking until you're both out of breath and laughing at how rowdy you both have become.

 

He buries his head into your neck, arms securely wrapped around your shoulders as well as his legs around your waste.

 

There is no set pace at first, simply rocking and enjoying the heat of this intimacy only _you_ get to share with him. He's yours, dammit. And you're never letting him go again.

 

He goes from kissing your neck to panting in your ear. He's getting impatient, making these obscenely sexy noises and you're inclined to oblige because damn have you missed this. _Missed_ _him_.

 

His head is thrown back now. Hips rocking in time with your every thrust. You're losing yourself in him and you can't bring yourself to care. Right now nothing else exist outside of this little realm the two of you have created.

 

He's moaning your name and you're moaning his too, cause damn it shouldn't feel this good-- As if you both haven't done this before. But it sure as hell does and you're both loving every fucking second of it.

 

You're so lost in your own passion that you didn't notice your body started vibrating until you feel Dick clawing at your back and he starts moaning like a porn star.

 

You know it won't take long once you start pounding and vibrating against that certain spot. You feel him tightening around you and just watch him as he becomes completely undone.

 

It is absolutely the most sexiest thing you've ever seen in your entire life, not that it's your first time seeing him like this. Far from it, actually. But it never ceases to amaze you just how incredible and utterly gorgeous the young man beneath you can be.

 

And it's with those final thoughts you come hot and heavy inside of him.

  

* * *

 

When morning finally came, it went exactly as you had expected it to.

 

Dick was up before you, sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying a bowl of fruity pebbles. He smiled at you when you walked in, teased you about your horrible case of bed-head, and you teased him about eating like a child when he stuck a bending straw into his bowl to drink his now sugary pink milk.

 

You both bantered back and forth, stole kisses, and pretended like nothing ever happened.

 

You wanted to bring it up, try to actually get him to vent, knew it would hurt now but would actually help him in the long run.

 

But his smile was so bright, and the dark circles under his eyes weren't as prominent as they were last night.

 

Basically, you just didn't want to ruin the moment.

 

"Wally? Earth to Wally!"

 

"huh? Oh, sorry. What's up?"

 

"Right. Um, I was just... Wanna play mortal kombat?"

 

"Uh. Sure, Dick. Whatever you want."

 

"Cool. Thanks dude."

 

You knew what Dick was really trying to say, and you knew what he was really thanking you for. And sure, maybe you should have pushed your boyfriend to actually finish that sentence, try to convince him to get it all out now so he could actually let the healing begin.

 

But just as your thoughts concluded earlier, you just didn't want to ruin the moment. If the events of these last few weeks have taught you anything, it's that you never really know how many of them you have left.

 

"I call Scorpian!"

 

"Ah man. No fair, you  _always_ get to be Scorpian!"

"S'not my fault you're too slow, _Flashboy_."

 

"Why you little—"

 

** END **

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos are always appreciated.


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